


My Baby, My Baby

by patchpuppe



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adopted Children, Child Death, Dadza, Dead TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Dead Wilbur Soot, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Pandora's Vault Prison, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Phil Watson Adopts Ranboo (Video Blogging RPF), Protective Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo Angst (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Parental Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Sad Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Technoblade Hears Voices (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings, taking that adopting ranboo tag pretty seriously ahaha...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:42:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29792085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchpuppe/pseuds/patchpuppe
Summary: You're my baby, say it to me.-RanbooTommy comes home.
Relationships: Ranboo & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Ranboo & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 18
Kudos: 377





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> set in an au where Tommy is not revived. he loses his final life to Dream on March 1st.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been meaning to write this for a while. I think today's stream was a sign to start.

**_TommyInnit was slain by Dream_ **

The death message was like a punch in the gut to Phil. 

Holding a shaking hand over his mouth, he doubled over and tried to resist the urge to vomit. That was his final life gone- his last throbbing heart pulled roughly from his chest and shattered by the same tyrant who had always had it out for him. _Dream_. Anger filled him like lava erupting from a volcano. 

What was Sam thinking- keeping Tommy locked up with that criminal? He claimed it was a security procedure, that Tommy had signed a contract but- contract be damned- if Sam cared for the kid as strongly as Phil thought then why had he assisted in his death? Keeping a claustrophobic, traumatised child in a maximum-security prison cell with his abuser… how had he not noticed the faults in that thinking? Sam’s flaw was that he cared for Pandora’s Vault and protecting his work far more than he cared for Tommy… look where that flaw had gotten them.

Despair bubbled up alongside the anger. Tommy was never his son, not really, but it was hard not to see him in a similar light. When he sparked up a friendship with Wilbur years ago, he’d invited himself to move in with them and never really left. Initially, Phil worried there was a family out there looking for a scrappy little blond kid who was missing from their lives but that was before he saw his lack of basic manners and discipline. He took Tommy under his wing and raised him alongside Wilbur. They were almost like brothers.

Oh, who was he kidding, Tommy was his son. Phil had lost two sons in a year. He bit back a frustrated sob and crumpled down against the wall. First Wilbur, now Tommy. His boys were always so lively, it seemed as if they were invincible. Ha, that’s the kind of mindset typical of an immortal man. Death always bit him sharply and sneakily like a rattlesnake lurking in the tall grass. 

Blinking away tears, Phil realised that Tommy was the last mortal he cared about. He would never again hold another baby, amazed by how his little hand curled around his pinky finger, and would never again laugh joyously as he made his first steps into his arms. The other firsts would be experiences bound by memory and- a sharp pain struck Phil in the chest- there are firsts he would never get the chance to guide Tommy through. He never got the chance to take Tommy out horseback riding. Never taught him to shotgun a drink or fix an engine. All those father-son experiences that the constant wars postponed… 

All those wars. Too many for a child to go through. The number of times he’d seen Tommy with a bandage on his face or purple bags under his eyes. He’d wave them off, using the excuse that Wilbur had been working him hard in L’Manberg. Being a L’Manbergian soldier was nothing like a child’s game of pretend. Phil wistfully wondered when Tommy had come to that realisation. The realisation that childhood was over and the world was dark. It must’ve been early on, he reckoned. 

Another wave of emotion crashed into him. Oh, he was too young for any of this. Too young for war, too young for politics, too young for exile and abandonment. This all started because of his childish attachment to a pair of music discs- Phil scoffed tearily as he thought about the amount of trouble those circular sheets of vinyl had cost them. More trouble than they were worth, he often told Tommy, but he would have none of it. Where were the discs now? Could they possibly be retrieved? Phil thought that they should be put with the other old toys in Tommy’s dusty bedroom. All the other reminders of the innocent and naïve child he once was. The child that died not by the hands of his tormentor in a lonely prison cell, but the child that was killed long ago by broken promises, betrayal and a lack of love.

Oh, Phil would give anything to go back and save that kid. He’d do anything. 

Sobs took over his body. His fingers found purchase in his blond hair and they stayed there, tugging for hours until Phil had a pounding headache. Whatever pain he inflicted upon himself could not compare to the shattered state of his heart. He doubted the hurt would ever end.

It was Technoblade who found him. Phil heard him log in, materialising into this reality upstairs in the attic of the Antarctic cottage. He braced himself, knowing that as soon as Techno’s being finished forming he would be bombarded with missed notifications: including Tommy’s death message. He heard Techno’s breathing hitch as he read the message. It was followed by a shaky sigh and a poignant, “Rest easy, Theseus.”

By the time Techno was down and wrapping him into a protective hug, he was crying again. Tommy and Techno’s relationship was complicated but Phil loved seeing them together. Their interactions were always guaranteed to end in chaos that made him laugh so hard his sides hurt. They reminded him of how it felt to be young. He always thought that Tommy and Techno were allowed to bicker now, but, as time passed, they would learn that having a brother was one of life’s greatest gifts. Phil didn’t know if Tommy ever realised that. He didn’t want to think about it.

Techno didn’t attempt to console him with empty promises and apologies. His touch and presence were more than enough to Phil- he knew how uncomfortable the young man usually was with affection and the effort warmed his heart. His pink hair tickled Phil’s nose and he felt terrible for getting snot in the smooth locks. When he tried to move away, Techno tutted and reassured him that it was fine. Usually, he would remark that he’s had much worse in his hair and start on a long tale about his victorious battles but both knew it wasn’t the time to talk about death. 

It wasn’t time to talk at all. Both had reached that conclusion and were content with the silence that settled over the cottage. Eventually, Techno helped Phil onto the couch and threw a blanket over him while he brewed tea. When he came back with two full teacups, Techno settled down at the opposite end of the couch. Their cold toes touched underneath the blanket. Any touch, no matter how minimal, was comforting to Phil. He’d barely been without it since becoming a father. 

The miserable realisation that life was changing was dropped on Phil like a heavy anvil. He looked around the cottage and a lump formed in his throat. Reminders of Tommy were everywhere. One of his many red and white shirts was laid out to dry on the back of a chair. A basketball was settled close to the door, ready to be taken outside to play with. Phil thought about the basketball hoop he’d put up outside and couldn’t bear the thought of ever tearing it down. Removing _any_ reminder of Tommy- even the mere thought of it- filled him with dread. 

But who would use it? Without a kid around to use the stuff, to receive Phil’s fatherly affections, life would be so meaningless. He needed to know there was someone around who depended on him. There was nothing he loved more than coming home to the cottage and having Tommy here, ready to ask questions and listen intently to stories about his hardcore adventures. How would he ever go on another quest again while knowing Tommy wouldn’t hear of it? The poor kid hated missing out on things.

Panic was starting to dig its tendrils into Phil when there was a knock on the front door. Techno stood warily and armed himself before opening it. His tense frame relaxed when he looked up to the visitor. He opened the door wider to them, welcoming them inside. 

It was Ranboo. One of the newer friends Phil had made in this world, but a good friend nonetheless. He was clumsy, awkward and still growing into his enormous height. Phil’s lips quirked up into a smile as he thought about how Tommy was in a similar stage of growth.

Ranboo couldn’t meet Phil or Techno’s eyes as he held out a bunch of handpicked flowers: white tulips, poppies and daisies. His voice was quiet and tired as he said, “I- I’m really sorry. About… you know…” 

Techno took the flowers and brought them to his nose for a smell before thanking Ranboo and taking them into the kitchen. It left Ranboo standing alone before Phil, not quite knowing what to do with his empty hands. He settled on swinging them at his sides in a way that seemed slightly inappropriate in a sombre environment like this. But Phil only smiled fondly. Tommy was the same in situations like this. 

“I can’t remember if I was friends with Tommy,” Ranboo said, “but if he was anything like you and Techno, I know he must’ve been great.”

“He was. Thank you, Ranboo.”

Phil watched tearily as Ranboo trudged through the snow back to his home across the biome. He moved clumsily and like there were heavy iron ingots strapped to his feet. Besides occasionally losing his balance a few times, he made it into his home safely. Even after the door was shut, Phil kept his blue eyes on the house.

Techno spoke to him a few times, but he didn’t ever take his attention away from the mountainside house.

“If I head out, will you be alright?” He asked eventually.

Phil blinked and refocused his eyes on the blurry black and white figure in the distant house. If Techno found it odd, he didn’t mention it. Besides, who would be so heartless as to criticise a mourning father?

He nodded and murmured that he would be fine himself but, that night, all Phil could think about was his intense loneliness. As the rest of the world slept, Phil slipped out of his bed and silently crept into Tommy’s old bedroom. No one had spent any significant time in here since he left to pursue adventure in L’Manberg but Phil had a feeling that he would be visiting it much more frequently now. 

He sat himself down on the little twin bed, feeling the stiff duvet dip beneath him and taking in the smell of dust mixed with boyish cologne. The duvet was patterned with spaceships and stars. Phil traced the patterns with a lonely index finger, his eyes following the swirls of the galaxies, before moving to look out of the window and towards Ranboo’s house. 

Ranboo would be sleeping right now, he reckoned. He wondered if the child had a bed as comfortable as this with such a fun duvet pattern. It really would be a shame for it to go to waste…


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil and Techno visit Pandora's Vault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some warnings: this chapter includes some specific details of how Tommy died, the state of his body afterwards and cremation of his body. if that makes you uncomfortable, I have fluffier fics for you to check out. pls stay safe!!

The day after Tommy’s death, Phil and Techno went to L’Manberg. They took the long route, dragging their boats across the tundra to the arctic ocean and paddling through the cold water. Dolphins leapt out of the water alongside them. If Phil had any energy, he would smile. 

As ice and snow melted away, revealing green nature, dread built up in Phil’s stomach. Sam had removed the body from Dream’s cell and it was to be collected. Phil didn’t know what to do with it. Would it be burned honourably on a pyre? Or would he enter the prison, lay his eyes on the awful thing and be so overcome with emotions that he would cling onto it for the rest of his life? 

He'd clung to Wilbur. Held him so tenderly until he could no longer tell where his body ended and Wilbur’s began. Techno had to pry the corpse from his fingers. But after the sun set, concluding the festival, they left the country, leaving a longing for Wilbur along with it. 

Tommy’s death was different. Wilbur died having had a lifetime of experiences: Tommy had barely begun living. Phil found himself getting choked up when he remembered that Tommy didn’t even get the chance to have his braces removed. 

Sam met them at the prison. He looked exhausted as he led them through the security precautions of prison visitation. They were rigorous, but not rigorous enough. A dark, bitter part of Phil hoped that Sam blamed himself for Tommy’s death. 

“I retrieved what I could.” He admitted, voice shaking slightly. The implications were horrifying. 

After signing agreement after agreement and going through a maze of hallways, they turned up at a block of cells. Sam said they were the weakest cells in Pandora’s Vault and that he wanted Tommy as far away from Dream as possible. With a ring of keys hanging from his side, he spent some time unlocking the cell door. When it finally opened, he stood back, allowing Phil and Techno inside. 

Techno stopped Phil before they went inside. He held his arm tightly, looked into his eyes and said, “You don’t have to do this. You can go home. I… I know what he meant to you, Phil.”

Phil’s lips pursed into a nervous smile. He appreciated his friend intervening, but he had to do this. If he didn’t, he wasn’t sure if he could ever accept that Tommy was dead. 

So they entered the cell. It was small and cold, with black water dripping down from the ceiling at a painstakingly slow pace. _Drip… drop… drip…… drop_. If Phil was stuck listening to that 24/7, he knew he’d go crazy. The walls were made from bumpy chunks of obsidian. Purple wept from the dark material, oozing down the wall like puss from a spot. Shards of _something_ crunched underneath his feet. 

On the ground, there was a long, angular lump covered with a sheet. The fabric might’ve been white but the dim lighting made it appear grey to Phil. There were rusty brown splatters and stains about the covered thing. A pungent smell wafted from it, inviting Phil’s nostrils and making his eye twitch. He’d smelled it before while traversing through battlefields. The odour was similar to rotten flesh but ten times stronger. He could feel it in the back of his throat, making his eyes water and his neck lurch as he bit down a gag. 

Techno knelt down by the concealed lump, his knees cracking as he did so, and he carefully unveiled it. The sheet was tossed aside blindly because he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the dreaded thing. Neither could Phil.

His eyes raked it, desperately searching for some part of it that wasn’t marked with violence. But not a single part of what lay on the cold prison floor was peaceful. From looking at the thing he quickly realised that the crunchy shards they were standing on were fragments of Tommy’s skull. That’s when the smell became too much and he turned away, gagging. 

Sam caught him by the shoulders as he fled. His eyes were filled with regretful tears. If he was speaking, Phil didn’t hear him. All the noises of the prison sounded a million miles away like he was hearing them from the bottom of the ocean. He pushed himself out of Sam’s grasp and stumbled back the way they came. 

He didn’t get far, considering the prison’s confusing layout. Sam came to his rescue and, with a soft arm around his shoulder, led him out of the prison. Sunlight burnt Phil’s eyes but it was preferable to staring at Tommy’s hollow corpse.

He sat on the hill outside the prison and, after a few minutes of staring blankly at the crude obsidian walls, slapped himself across the face. That- that thing couldn’t have been Tommy. Not his kid, who was nothing if not lively and loud and- it couldn’t be him. That wasn’t his Tommy. 

The entire time he rowed home, he shook. _Not Tommy, not Tommy_ , his mind rambled. He felt like a thousand volts of electricity was coursing through his body. When he made it to land, he pearled the rest of the way home, where he stumbled into Tommy’s room. It was in quite a state. He would have to clean it up before Tommy came home. 

-

Techno left the prison carrying the corpse. It was wrapped carefully in the white sheet in a way he hoped looked ceremonious, but the excremental stains on the fabric made his face flush. He knew that if Tommy was here now, he’d be comically disgusted by what happens to a body after death. 

Phil was nowhere to be found, but his boat was missing from where it had been left at the shore an hour ago. As he often did when he was alone, Techno decided to voice his thoughts to Chat. Walking away from Pandora’s Vault, he grumbled, “Maybe it’s for the best that he’s not here.”

Chat erupted into a conversation. The voices had remained appropriately silent throughout the collection process but it was only a matter of time before they went back to blabbering. 

**_DADZA NOOO_ **

**_DADZA_ **

**_PHIL????_ **

**_Did Sam leave him??_ **

**_SADZA_ **

**_I hope he’s ok :((_ **

**_Dadza omg_ **

Techno rolled his eyes. Some of the voices were very insistent that Phil, Tommy, Wilbur and Techno were a family. He had no idea how that would work with Phil being his best friend but also the father of his pseudo-brothers… despite it being a very confusing concept, Techno never stopped thinking about how honoured he felt the first time Tommy called him “brother”. Scowling, he expelled the thought from his mind before the voices caught on. They would never shut up if they found out how much he loved the little hellion Tommy. 

He handled the body with care and tenderness that was uncharacteristic of him. Here was the mass-murderer, the terrorist, the anarchist Technoblade, cradling the body of his brother like it was the most precious thing in the world. In that moment, Tommy’s body held more value to him than anything else. And considering he owned several highly-illegal items in this world, that was saying a lot. 

He told Tommy to die like a hero. That’s what he wanted for the kid. To go out with a bang as bright as the light he brought to their lives. But heroes rarely get what they deserve. He died alone, cold and in pain, with Dream’s merciless fists being the last thing he saw before darkness. 

Techno knew how it felt to have one’s skull crushed to smithereens. His brother was robbed of a hero’s death, but he would have an honourable send-off. That was the least he could do for him.

Tommy’s covered body was carefully placed into a boat and a torch was settled into the dip in his chest. The boat was pushed away from the shore and slowly slipped out to see. Techno wiped tears from his eyes and chuckled at how Tommy’s feet hung out of the end of the boat. The dumb kid was annoyingly tall for his young age. Dumb kid. 

Techno stayed standing at the edge of the water until he could no longer hear the fire crackling. The blaze would continue until the boat and all it contained was eaten up. 

Tommy was gone. He left behind a legacy of bravery, many friends who cared about him, and a lot of property damage to Techno’s home. Now there was nothing to do but move on and pick up the broken pieces of the boy’s father. 

**Author's Note:**

> constructive criticism is accepted and appreciated. 
> 
> waiting for the next chapter? I have other mcyt fics posted (mostly techno & ranboo & phil). pls check them out :]
> 
> let's be friends on [twitter](https://twitter.com/patchpuppe) . i post writing sneak peeks there!


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